


You Okay, Potter? (Or, What Harry Does When Ginny Decides She Doesn't Want Him Anymore)

by Kitty_Savella



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_Savella/pseuds/Kitty_Savella
Summary: Draco can't stand to see Harry down, so he decides to do something very uncharacteristic. Luckily for him, his thrown away caution works out in his favor.





	You Okay, Potter? (Or, What Harry Does When Ginny Decides She Doesn't Want Him Anymore)

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, now that all that legal stuff is taken care of ^^^^^^^. Hello, all, and welcome to another story by Kitty! This one hit me while listening to Heart Vacancy by The Wanted. It started out as a songfic, but as I kept writing, it evolved into something that doesn't even really fit the song anymore. The idea was to have Draco try and get Harry to let him love him...but as I was trying to build up to the words of the song, the story decided that Harry just wanted to get some...and so here we have this. Please, don't be too harsh with your criticism, as this was actually a bit complicated for me to write. I can't tell you how many times I hit myself in the head with something because I couldn't figure out how to say what I wanted to. So, if it's not perfect, blame my poor memory and dyslexia. Anyways, I really do hope you enjoy. (Let me know either way in a review!!)

XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX

I stood there staring at the savior of the wizarding world, wondering what the hell happened to him. He looked sad and forlorn, as if he had just lost something quite precious to him, but was resigned to never get it back. That look on his face disconcerted me; it wasn't something the ever-cheerful Boy Wonder should be wearing. Ignoring my friends and his for a moment, I did something that was quite uncharacteristic for me; I walked up to him and placed a slim hand on his shoulder.

“You okay, Potter?” I asked softly, not wanting everyone to know that I actually cared about the messy-haired boy in front of me.

He gave me this odd look, peeked back at his friends, then motioned towards a corridor a little way away from the two groups. “Follow me.”

His friends, Weasel and Granger, put up a quiet protest, but a single look from their friend stilled their mouths. He turned back towards me and nodded again, as if to reassure himself—or me—that we were still going off together to talk.

When he decided we were far enough away from eavesdroppers and blatant starers, he huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through his unruly locks. I cringed inwardly, unexpectedly sorry for his obviously abused hair. Despite my wandering mind, I still noticed that it only took him a moment to steel himself for whatever he was planning on revealing to me. From the looks of things, it was something heavy. I suddenly wondered if his precious little friends knew whatever was about to come from his pale pink lips.

“So, I suppose you probably know about Ginny's infatuation with me...” he started, slowly, as if each word was pulled up from the deepest recesses of his body, clinging to his insides the entire ride up. I did know about the She-Weasel, but I didn't see how the information was relevant.

“Yeah, and?”

He sighed again, once more ripping his hand through his sorely abuse mop of unruly black hair. This was harder on him than I had previously thought. Not sure if it was because of what he was going to tell me, or because he was going to tell _me_ , I gave him my most open gaze—the one complete with a softly disarming smile—and urged him to go on with my eyes alone. It seemed to work, even though he fidgeted for a moment more before resuming.

“Well, before I went off to do that stuff I had to do to defeat Old Voldie...we had been dating. And... well... we had talked about getting back together when I got back and finished the monster off...” he trailed off as if there were more, but made no obvious move to continue.

Again, I simply stated, “And?” He was starting to grate on my nerves, but I made extra sure that none of my frustration and irritation showed on my face. It wouldn't do to give him cause to stop before he'd really even begun.

He turned away from me this time and scuffed a shoe against the rough stones of the corridor floor. For a moment, I thought that he really wasn't going to continue. Then, with an outpouring of breath, he let it all out.

“Well, when I got back...I went straight to fight that bastard. I had to fight through Death Eaters, save you, keep my friends safe...and then...then...” Here, he paused again. It seemed as though whatever he was about to say was too hard for him to get out, no matter how much he just wanted to say everything at once.

Trying not to spook him, but also to offer him a measure of comfort, I walked up behind him and laid my hand on his shoulder as I had when I asked him what was bothering him. His shoulders stiffened for a moment, before they relaxed and he sagged forward a bit in defeat.

Potter—Harry—went on in a whisper. “Then I saw Snape die...and got his memories...and found out what I had to do to end it...the war and the pain and everything. And with my new knowledge, I walked into the forest. I made peace with my fate, saw those I hadn't seen in so long. I was ready to bring everything to an end.”

I was a little confused at his word choice. _'What I had to do to end it...the war and the pain and **everything** ', 'I was ready to bring **everything** to an end'_. Was he saying that he had been contemplating _suicide_? Somehow, that thought tugged at my heart and I was glad that, despite what he might have been thinking at the time, he hadn't died. I knew that that thought should have felt odd to me, but it seemed that, since he saved me from the fiendfire, he had grown on me. There was a part of me that would be devastated if anything happened to this boy in front of me—and not just because of the life-debts that lingered between us.

Eagerly, I listened as he went on. “I walked through the Forbidden Forest knowing that I was walking to my death. And when I got there, I faced that snake-faced bastard head on, unflinchingly. And true to form, he did exactly as I expected him to. He killed me.”

My eyes opened in shock. What did he mean, _'He **killed** me_ '? The Dark Lord couldn't have killed him—the idiot was standing right in front of him. He definitely wasn't an inferus or a ghost, judging from his ability to speak and lack of transparency. So, what in the bloody hell did he mean about being killed?

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, unaware that the volume of my voice had dropped so low. My mind was struggling to come up with an explanation for the strangeness it was being led to believe.

A sardonic smirk graced his handsome face as he turned towards me. “You aren't the only one who doesn't believe it. Hell, if I hadn't gone through it, I don't think _I'd_ believe it. But it happened, and it does have some bearing on what else I'm going to say.”

Dumbly, I nodded, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this boy—man—who was standing in front of me had died. I had almost lost him, and I never knew it.

“I obviously didn't stay dead. But my death was the thing that allowed me to kill Voldemort.” Here, I winced, as the name always made me do. He didn't seem to notice; he just kept on speaking softly, his eyes slightly unfocused as he looked to the past to tell his story. “And when he carried my 'dead' body to the castle, showing it to everyone so that they would 'know' he had won...Ginny saw me lying there limp and lifeless. She was so certain I was dead. Why wouldn't she be? I mean, I was playing dead well enough to convince Hagrid, who was carrying me. But still...the situation was...bad. When I jumped up and surprised everyone...setting in motion those final moments of battle...I never saw the shock, horror and betrayal on Ginny's face. I was so focused on the task at hand...killing that snake and her master...I was so selfish...”

_What?!_ That confused me more than anything else had so far. He was blaming himself for focusing on killing the Dark Lord instead of focusing on the She-Weasel. He really thought that there was something wrong with him for not noticing how hurt she was because he did what he had to do. A righteous anger roared up inside of me at that. How _dare_ she make him feel bad about doing his duty?

My hand was still on his shoulder, and in my fury, it had tightened. His brilliant green eyes sought mine out over his shoulder, a clear question in their emerald depths; _'Are you okay?'_ they seemed to ask. I loosened my grip and smoothed down the wrinkled fabric under my slender fingers, giving him a small smile as reassurance.

“It's nothing, Potter. Go on,” I urged, wanting him to get to the important part, which I could feel still loomed ahead.

He still looked at me skeptically, but went on nonetheless. “After everything was said and done, and the battle was over...well, she wasn't happy when I went over to give you your wand back. And that was just a little piece of it. She was still upset that I hadn't taken her with me the year before...even though I took Ron and Hermione. And she was still sore about me pretending to be dead, because it had hurt her to see me like that. And then, seeing me be nice to you after everything that has happened between us over the years, everything you've done to Ron and Hermione and her...well... She just didn't understand that you'd changed. She didn't care that, if not for you, I wouldn't be alive to kill Voldemort. And she really didn't care that your mom was nice enough to keep my farce from the Dark Lord. In her mind, you all deserve to rot in Azkaban forever, and I should hate you because I used to find you a pain in the ass.” He let out a rather large sigh and ran his hand through his hair again. Closing his eyes for a few moments, he tried to calm himself down, though I hadn't realized he had worked himself up.

I gave his shoulder a light squeeze to show him that it was okay. I understood that he didn't agree with her, and that this retelling of events was hard on him. I didn't speak, but let him go on when he was ready. It took several more quiet moments before he seemed to decide what all he wanted to say.

“I tried to explain to her, again, why I hadn't taken her with me for my journey last year. And I tried to show her why I had to play dead. I apologized for hurting her, even though I hadn't meant to. And I tried so hard to play down the importance of giving you your wand back, acting like it meant nothing to me. I tried _so_ hard to make her see that there was nothing for her to be upset about...but I think that just made it worse. She claimed that I didn't understand her, that I wasn't even trying to make things work. She said that I was insensitive, and something must have happened in the last year to make me a selfish jerk. And finally, she said that if this was going to be how I was, she didn't want anything to do with me. She didn't need someone so wrapped up in themselves that they couldn't see what she needed.

“I just stood there while she was deriding me, not even putting up a fight because I was _so_ tired. I had just had the longest year of my life, and then fought the fiercest battle ever with a man who everyone thought couldn't die. I just wanted to stop fighting and rest. I was so sure that after everything was said and done, I would be able to hold her in my arms and tell her how much I had missed her over the last year, tell her how glad I was that we were free to have a future now. And all that went tumbling down with a few choice words on her part, and a lack of fight on mine.”

He stopped for a moment, running a hand down his face. He looked tired, defeated. I looked at him again, as if it were the first time I was seeing him. I noticed the stress lines on his face, the pinched look to his mouth. His shoulders were still slumped in defeat and fatigue, his back hunched as if the weight of the world still sat there. Not knowing what came over me, I moved so that I was standing directly behind him and raised my right hand to join my left on his shoulders. Without a pause, I began to slowly massage away the tension in his shoulders. He tensed up for a moment, unsure if he should give in to the pleasure of the massage or break away. But, after a tense, breathless moment, he made up his mind and gave in, letting his shoulders fall again.

We stood like that for quite some time, me rubbing his shoulders purposefully, and him leaning into my hands, every now and then letting out a soft moan of contentment as I rubbed out a knotted muscle. I was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable this situation was. For once, I wasn't thinking about what would happen in the future, or what anyone would think when they saw me; I freed my mind from the expectations of everyone around me and focused solely on the strong shoulders in front of me and the man who owned them. And I knew he was doing the same, forgetting about the world around us and simply giving in to the pleasures I was offering.

Something new was being forged between us at that moment. Something wonderful.

I had no idea how long we stood like that, my hands on his shoulders and his head hanging down towards the floor. But after a sizeable amount of time had passed and I felt that his muscles were as relaxed as they were ever going to be with the situation the way it was, I stepped back, letting my hands slide off his shoulders and down his back before falling to my sides. He gave a soft sigh, turned and stretched, his arms raised high above his head. I found myself looking to see if the motion caused his shirt to ride up his stomach. Unfortunately, because of the damnably large clothes it seemed the boy-savior favored, I saw nothing save the bottom three inches of his shirt.

While I was trying to catch a glimpse of skin, I failed to notice green eyes watching me. When I did draw my gaze up from his waist, I caught the edges of a knowing smile on his face. My cheeks had the nerve to color, so I looked away from him, trying to hide the evidence. It didn't work, as he simply reached towards me and grasped my chin softly, returning my gaze to him. My breath caught in my throat; I was unsure of what was going to happen next. His captivating emerald eyes bored into my own slate-grey ones and I felt all of the saliva in my mouth dry up, my heart stuttering in my chest as if it would stop. And when he leaned in, his breath ghosting over my lips, my brain shut down.

_Soft. Warm. Moist._ Only sensations made it through the fog that had securely wrapped itself around my thoughts. I could only feel what was going on; it seemed as though when his lips had descended upon my own that my traitorous eyes had closed, keeping the sight of the handsome man from me. If I didn't need them so that I could drink in the sight of Harry, I would eagerly pluck them out to teach them a lesson. How dare they keep his visage from view?

I felt one of his arms wrap seductively around my waist, drawing me closer to him, the other skimming over the muscles of my back. My whole body shuddered at the sensual contact. I was ashamed to admit it, but I wanted more, wanted to see where this was going. I didn't have long to wait, as soon he was deepening the kiss, his tongue begging for entrance at my lips, his wandering hand fisting in the material at the back of my school robes.

_Oooh, that felt good._ The way his tongue softly yet insistently played with my own; the way his hips shifted forward, pressing his hard length into my leg; the way his arm tightened around my waist and his hand gripped my robes tighter, as if he wanted me close enough to climb into his skin. My brain was so fuzzy now, I wasn't sure if the moaning I heard was coming from him or me, but I did know that if anything in this crazy world was perfect, it was this moment.

And, of course, that meant that something—or someone—had to ruin it.

“Harry?!”

“Mate...?”

I was pleased to say that a very different groan left my throat as I heard Weasel and Granger call out to their friend, the man who currently had his tongue down my throat and whose hand had—at some point—migrated from my back to my side, slightly under the edge of my shirt under my school robes. I was also pleased to say that my groan of discontent was echoed by said man as he slowly—agonizingly slowly—pulled away from me to look at his friends over my shoulder. I, luckily enough, had a perfect view of his facial expression as he stared at the interlopers. He looked pretty pissed off, as if someone had just shat on his birthday cake. For once, I wasn't the one on the receiving end of that look. For once, he was making that face _for_ me, not _because of_ me.

Unluckily enough, because of the position of Weasel and Granger behind me, I could not see how they were taking that look being directed at them. I was sort of sad about that.

“Harry...” Granger was the first to speak, her tone questioning and pleading at the same time. Probably shocked that her Golden Boy would be caught snogging his hated enemy in the middle of a corridor in Hogwarts only hours after defeating the Dark Lord.

Weasel was next, obviously confused, like always. “Mate...what's going on here?”

Even though Harry was the only one who could see me, and he was focused elsewhere, I smirked wickedly. Finally, I knew something about their boy-savior that they didn't. I was one step away from cackling like an evil villain—the only thing stopping me was the thought of how Harry would take my sudden maniacal laughter. Somehow, I felt that it would be disastrously underappreciated.

While I was musing on the pros and cons of laughing viciously at Weasel's expense, Harry was answering his friends.

“What does it look like? You're interrupting a very important discussion.” I caught Harry rolling his eyes at the pair in front of him and almost lost the fight with my impulse to laugh.

“'Important discussion'? What the hell are you talking about? You had your _tongue_ down Malfoy's _throat_!” This time I rolled my eyes, and I could tell that Harry caught it by the twitching of muscles on the edge of his lips, as if he were trying not to smile at me. Since my facial expression still couldn't be seen, as I hadn't felt like turning around and joining the conversation yet, I went ahead and let my lips quirk up into a genuine smile of amusement.

“Harry...I thought you just wanted to talk to Malfoy. Ginny's waiting for you, you know?” Granger tried to appeal to something in Harry that he had just confessed to me had died. But, they'd find out for themselves soon enough.

“*Ginny?* She isn't waiting for me any more than Hagrid's waiting for Lucius Malfoy. Seriously, don't make me laugh. She couldn't take it, so she ran off. Just like you did, Ron, during the Hunt. Why should I care about her when she so obviously doesn't care about me?”

“That's not true, mate! She was just surprised, and the battle took a lot out of her, and she wasn't handling her emotions well. She didn't mean anything by it. Come on, give her another chance,” Weasel pleaded. It was disgusting, really, how he was begging for _Harry_ to forgive his bint of a sister instead of sticking up for his best friend. Didn't he realize that Harry didn't deserve to keep giving everyone second chances when they were proving they weren't worthy?

“Yes, Harry, Ron's right. He knows his sister, and you have to admit, a lot's gone on these last several hours. If we just go back to the Weasleys, we can sort everything out. I don't think staying here with Malfoy is doing you any good.”

“What the fuck do you know, _Hermione_? You weren't there when Ginny called me a selfish jerk. You didn't see the sneer on her face, or the way she acted when I tried to explain my side of the story. So you have _no_ right to try to tell me that it's just exhaustion from battle. If she were just tired emotionally and physically, she'd have cried or asked me to change, or, I dunno, fucking _apologized_ after she called me selfish.”

Granger had the nerve to let out an appalled, “Harry!” when he used the word 'fucking'. She should have saved her breath because all her outburst gained her was an even angrier glare from the chosen one. At least Weasel seemed to be getting it. I could hear him shuffling from one foot to the other beneath that glare. Unfortunately, for a long, tense moment, no one spoke. I decided that it was time for me to turn around and remind everyone that I was still present and very much able to hear everything going on.

Finally facing the two people I dislike most out of all of the stupid Gryffindors, I gave them a look that plainly said, _'I think you two are absolutely idiotic, too idiotic to even **breathe**.'_ What I actually said, however, was a bit different.

“I'm surprised that the two of you would try and force Harry to be with someone who has treated him so poorly. I thought you were his friends.”

Three pairs of eyes widened at my use of Harry's given name, instead of the usual surname. If we had been left alone for even a moment longer, Harry himself wouldn't have been surprised at all. He would have heard me moan his name as he slid his hand up my shirt and played his fingers against the sensitive skin there.

Regaining their balance much quicker than I would have given them credit for, the protests started anew.

“You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Malfoy. My sister didn't do anything wrong. She sure as hell didn't treat Harry 'poorly' as you so stupidly put it. Like I said, she was just _tired_. She didn't mean any of what she said.”

I sneered at the imbecile, “And you know this how? _She_ tell you that?”

Weasel went red in the face, obviously angry that I was teasing him. “No! She didn't have to. I know my baby sister, and I know that she's been in love with Harry since she first saw him on Platform 9 ¾ when we were first years. I know that she'd never tell him off, or make him feel like she didn't want him anymore.”

I easily slipped in when the idiot took a breath to keep going. “So, you're saying that Harry is a liar as well as stupid, then? That he doesn't know when someone is yelling at him and when someone is simply acting out of exhaustion? Or are you trying to say that your sister is such a child that she can't say what she means when she's tired? Either way, I'm fairly certain it's insulting to Harry. Because, if you mean the first, then you're insinuating that he's stupid and can't tell the difference between exhaustion and anger. And if you mean the second, then you're trying to force your friend to be with a child who is much too young to have a romantic relationship with anyone, let alone someone as important as Harry. So, Weasley, which do you mean?”

Weasel-be spluttered and the red of his face turned to an ugly puce. He seemed angry enough to hex me, in fact, but I was certain that he wouldn't try it with the glare Harry was still leveling at him. I smirked at him, knowing I probably looked vindictive and smug, but I didn't care. I was sure this time that I was in the right. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I felt Harry move up closer to my back and lay a hand possessively on my shoulder. My smirk just grew wider.

“Yes, _Ron_ , what exactly were you implying?” Harry's voice sounded livid and brooked no argument. Internally, I laughed at the sight of the Weasel gulping in fear. Every second of his discomfort was a second of pure pleasure to me.

Granger actually tried to butt in when Ron didn't answer right away. “Harry, I'm sure that Ron didn't mean it the way it sounded. You know how protective he is of his sister, and when Malfoy tried to twist things around--”

“Enough, Hermione. Stop making excuses for people. Ginny meant every word she said to me, just like Ron meant every word he just said to Malfoy. There's no way you're going to get me to believe that Ron only said what he just did because he's tired. Don't you guys think _I'm_ tired as hell? I had to fight the mad man personally. But I assure you, I mean every single word I say.”

“But, mate, not everyone's as strong as you are. Surely you can see how it might be too much for Gin, how she might be just too tired to say things right, right?” I could hear the disgustingly pleading tone in Weasel's voice and it made me sick. He was so dead set on making Harry believe what he was saying, he didn't even seem to realize that it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, too.

I turned my head slightly and leaned back into Harry, catching the look on his face. His glare was still there, but much fainter than it had been earlier. Now, he seemed to be upset and tired. It was time for me to finish things.

“I really think you should walk away now. No matter what you two say at this point, you're only making things worse. Maybe he'll be ready to listen to your crap tomorrow. Or maybe what you say tomorrow won't be crap. Either way, it's best you leave.” I paused for a moment, waiting to see if they'd just turn and walk away or continue to put up a fight. It seemed like they weren't going to oblige me and do either. They simply stood there, looking back and forth between Harry and the floor. It seemed as though they weren't going to listen to me, no matter how much sense my words made. Well, then, I supposed I had to give them a push the only way I could.

Turning around fully, acting like they no longer existed, I lifted a hand to softly caress Harry's cheek. Once I had him looking at me instead of the ground or his so-called friends, I leaned in and whispered, “They need to hear it from you, Harry. They won't go just because I told them to, and I really think it's time you had some rest. I can see how tired you are.” I smiled as he nodded slowly, though the smile soon fell as his eyes went shuttered and dull. I hated that they could do this to him.

He stepped away from me, causing my hand to fall from his face. I sighed wistfully, already missing the faint heat beneath my hand. As he took a step forward, towards the other Gryffindors, I turned to stand just behind him, as he had been just moments before. I tried to offer him my silent support from his shoulder. I had said all I could to these people. It was Harry's turn to end things, perhaps once and for all.

“Malfoy's right, you guys. No matter what else you say right now, I don't think I'm ready to forgive you. You've already said so much against me that I'm not sure that I'd believe you if you tried to say something else. It's best if we take a break for a while. Maybe I'll be rested enough tomorrow to hear you out, and maybe you'll have a chance to talk to Ginny tonight too. We'll try this again tomorrow.” He didn't even say goodbye. He simply finished speaking, then started walking away from me and his friends, heading back towards the Great Hall.

I couldn't resist a parting shot, so as I moved to follow him, I threw over my shoulder, “I hope you realize what you just did.” I'd let them think that over for a while, and maybe by tomorrow, they'd get it. And hopefully, it wouldn't be too late.

As Harry was rounding the corner I called out to him, not wanting him to leave my presence yet. “Harry, wait!”

He paused, much to my surprise. I had actually thought he wouldn't look at me or acknowledge my presence at all. But I was pleasantly proved wrong when he turned towards me with those same dead eyes. A shudder ran down my back; I hated that look. My Harry shouldn't look so defeated. His eyes were supposed to be crinkled in laughter or sparking in anger.

“What do you want, Malfoy? I'm too tired to...” he waved a hand listlessly and trailed off, not elaborating on what he was too tired to do. He simply huffed a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. Involuntarily, my mouth quirked into a small smile. It seemed ages since I saw him do that, even though it had been less than an hour ago, when he was telling me about the She-Weasel. For some reason, the sight of him doing it again warmed my heart, as if there was still hope. Hope for what, I wasn't exactly sure.

“I just...” I paused, not sure exactly what I wanted to say. He looked at me impatiently, some of the dead look fading from his eyes. I had a feeling that if I said the wrong thing here, his eyes would dim even more, and all of that hope would be lost. But, still, I wasn't exactly sure what the right thing to say was.

Closing my eyes momentarily, I took a deep breath. Since I couldn't intellectually fathom what I should do or say, I decided to just go with my gut. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing not two centimeters in front of Harry, our noses practically touching. I fisted my hands in his shirt and pulled him closer, smashing my lips into his, desperate to make some life flare in those emerald orbs. As I kissed him, I kept my eyes open. I wanted to see his surprise, his arousal, his surrender. I wasn't disappointed.

It was almost comical, the way his eyes widened in shock at my bold move. And then, with a blink of his eyes, the shock turned into pleasure. He shifted in my grasp, eased the pressure against our lips and gave me a teasing lick, asking without words for entrance. I happily gave it to him, moving my hands from the front of his shirt to wrap around his neck, drawing him in deeper. And as I acquiesced to his desire, his eyes lit with arousal.

There was a part of me, the part I usually kept back to observe the world while I was preoccupied, that was shocked that Harry had kept his eyes open this whole time. But soon, that part, too, was too busy kissing to pay any attention to what was going on around us.

Harry's hands hadn't been idle while we were kissing, or while I was staring into his eyes. One hand had decided it liked being up my shirt, and was wrapped around my back, gently petting between my shoulder blades. The other hand had settled on my hip, fingers gripping tightly to keep me pinned to him. I _hmmed_ happily and allowed my tongue to fight briefly with Harry's, wanting to see if he'd give up control of the kiss that _I_ had started. Turns out, he wouldn't. His tongue lashed at mine, licking it into happy submission as his hands continued to play on my skin. I was floating, or at least, that's what it seemed. I felt weightless, a euphoria settling around me that I had never known before, save for that brief moment before Harry's friends had interrupted.

For this moment, everything was right with the world. I was exactly where I belonged, as was Harry. There was no one on this rock besides the two of us. Nothing else mattered.

As the kiss got more heated, Harry nipped my lower lip, causing my hips to involuntarily buck against his. He chuckled into my mouth, and I would have glared at him, save for the hard length pressing against my own. Instead, I smiled and moved a hand up the nape of his neck to play in his hair. Wondering what would happen, I loosely gripped a handful of hair before giving it a sharp tug. Harry _moaned_ , the sound seemingly coming from the soles of his feet. He ground his hips into mine and, if possible, drew me closer. That one act of curiosity was like a signal; the heat was turned up even further; I was sure that, should anyone come across us, we'd look a sight, all but grinding against each other, desperate for friction.

Finally, we came up for air, our breath coming out in ragged pants. For long moments, we simply stared at each other. I was happy, for Harry's eyes were no longer dull and dead, but instead full of passion and life. And arousal. It was clear to me that there were things Harry would like to do that would require at least an empty classroom, but preferably a comfortable bed. After a few more precious seconds ticked by, Harry leaned back, putting a little more distance between us. He looked a little guilty, and my eyes instantly narrowed. I was sure he was thinking something that I wouldn't like, and I just hoped the guilt had nothing to do with the activity we had just finished.

“What?” I said, my tone more clipped than I had originally intended.

Harry simply smiled at me, apparently amused by my indignation. He shook his head before meeting my eyes again. “It's not something I want to do, but I know if I don't, it'll come back to bite me on the ass.”

My eyebrow rose in a look that clearly stated, _'What the hell are you talking about, Potter?'_ His smile simply got wider.

“I have to go talk to the Weasleys. At least to let them know that I'm retiring for the evening. If I don't, they'll worry, especially since most everyone knows that the last person to see me was you. They'll think you did something to me to avenge Voldemort or your father or something.” This time, I controlled my flinch at that man's name. However, I couldn't control my grimace at the mention of the Weasleys.

“I know, I know. You don't have to like them, but they are practically my family. I'll just be a moment, and then we can continue our...conversation...somewhere more comfortable.” His lecherous smile caught me off guard and I laughed. Harry was full of surprises. I couldn't fault him for wanting to make his life a little easier right now, after all, he _did_ just do the whole world a huge favor. Heaving a put-upon sigh that I didn't really mean, I let my arms drop back to my sides, though not without a last caress of his lithe muscles under his over-large shirt.

“I suppose, since you're only going so that you can be alone with me, I'll allow it.” He laughed heartily at my tone, knowing that I wasn't seriously upset at the turn of events, merely slightly annoyed.

“Wait here, then, and I'll be back in a sec. Then, I think, to the room of requirement. I'm sure we can convince the room to give us a large, plush bed and a warm fire in the hearth. I bet you look positively sinful in the firelight, naked and glistening with a sheen of sweat after a good romp.” He winked at me before giving me a swift peck on the lips. I was too stunned to do much more than watch him walk away into the Great Hall.

End.


End file.
